


Autonomic Booty Call

by jadebloods



Series: Ladystuck 2013 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Helmsman, Intercrural Sex, Involuntary Erections, Ladystuck 2013, Mechanical Prosthesis, Mutual Masturbation, Object Insertion, Technological Kink, Tentabulges, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadebloods/pseuds/jadebloods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chief Petty Officer Roxy Lalonde assists Helmsman Aradia Megido with a loose power connector, with involuntarily sexy results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autonomic Booty Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aewin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aewin/gifts).



> Sex with a kind of pale bent is all kinds of up my alley, so I wanted to fill this one. Hopefully you like it. The sex is kind of weird, but I didn't see any contraindications for it in your kink manifesto. :)
> 
> Thanks to Catie and Beckah for commenting on the first draft, and to nv for doing the same for the second draft.
> 
> Content warnings: This fic involves objects being inserted into the skin, brief mentions of canon-typical character death, and implied past Equius/Aradia with canon-typical consent issues.
> 
> A [Ladystuck 2013](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Ladystuck_Exchange2013) pinch-hit fill for the following prompt: _I'd like to see a story (likely PWP, but it doesn't have to be! worldbuilding is great too!) where Aradia is installed as a helmsman (for any reason), and Roxy serves as her service technician. During the story they interact sexually in some consensual manner._

The first thing you realize is that this is no ordinary helmsman. For one thing, she's obviously not a mustardblood--too curvy, too ruddy--and for another, she's floating in a tub of some kind of opalescent pink ooze that you've never seen before. Wires coated in proteinaceous tyrian secretions thread through the back of the tank, which she's floating in on her back, up to her neck. Like it's some kind of fucking spa treatment instead of indentured servitude at work, except she doesn't look quite as relaxed as that would warrant.

You hoist your toolbag up on your shoulder, adjusting your baggy orange jumpsuit. The room is cavernous and empty, except for the two of you, but most of it is bathed in shadow. All you can see is the troll woman in front of you and the machinery she's connected to through the tub. "Damn, Helmslady, you got some drippy digs. What's with all the goop? That's gonna make my job super hard."

She opens her weary eyes and turns toward you, her long hair sticking to her forehead in clumps with the help of some sweat and more of that pearly goop. The rest of it fans out behind her head in a black corona. Her face looks sunken, giving the impression that she's lost a lot of weight in a short period of time, but it brightens up a bit when she sees you. "I barely notice it anymore, I've been in here so long!" She lifts an arm out of the slime to untangle her hair from one massive curved horn, the slop dripping away from her body in thick ropes as she moves. "I needed a custom helm since I kind of died my first time trying to fly. My old tech built this for me to focus my psi current."

You set your bag down and approach the tank, jamming your hands deep into your pockets. It's kind of cool, and you're eager to learn how it works, but you're not quite ready to take a bath in it yet. "Well, he bit the bullet at the hands of like, I dunno, some kind of mutiny dealio? That probably doesn't narrow it down, does it? Okay, long story made real short is that I'm your new service tech. Chief Petty Officer Lalonde at your service." You lean over the tank to inspect what you've got to work with. "You can just call me Roxy though, it ain't like we've got officers huffing down our necks in here."

She appears to be naked underneath the slime, although it's so bright and semi-opaque that you can't see much of her body aside from a general outline. "Nice to meet you, Chief Roxy. I'm Aradia. I like humans, especially humans who bring me such good news about my friends' demise." 

You roll your sleeves up and reach down into the tank, bracing yourself for the slime to have the consistency of something unpleasant, like uncooked egg yolks. However, you find that it's actually quite soothing. It's warm but not hot, and it isn't heavy or cloying, despite how thick it looks. Shit, maybe it really _would_ feel like a mud bath. "Good news? You didn't like the guy, or what?"

"Yes," she says automatically, and then, "no..." a little more deliberately. "It's complicated, but he definitely needed a change of scenery. Death will be good for him. He has a lot to think about." You feel along the back of the tub to locate the wire that plugs into the base of her skull, and she shivers and laughs in response. "That tickles a bit."

"Sorry babe, I'll try to be more gentle with your delicate bits." You cradle the back of her head in one hand, using the other to feel around for the wire hub connecting her to the back of the tank.

"Be _less_ gentle, that way it won't tickle." She closes her eyes serenely, as if you're scrubbing her hair in a salon instead of digging around her skull for cable connections.

You grit your teeth, noticing something out of place as you feel around blindly behind her neck. "What the shit? There's another wire here." That's odd.

She nods. "They go all the way down. When I died, the old tech brought me back." She shrugs casually, as if she just told you about her weekend plans for a bocce ball tournament up on deck. "I didn't really _want_ to be. One of the good things about death is that it cancels your enlistment. He didn't _ask_ me, but he decided to replace the dead bits with mechanical bits before the rest of me died. That's why I need all these extra connectors."

"Uh huh," you say, eager to change the subject. The next connector is further down, where her thorax meets her abdomen. "You got a shit-ton of potential energy sinks here, chica. No wonder they called in my undoubtedly world-class expertise. I bet it's been forever since these connections were checked--nobody's gonna wanna come swim around in this slime to play with 'em, I'm sure." You wiggle the plug gently to test how well the port connection holds up to mild stress. It seems firmly built, but she winces a bit when you jostle things around. "Does that hurt?"

She shakes her head. "No, but it feels wrong. Something's rattling around on the inside."

"Loose plug down in your guts, probably. Or you might have a dead wire, or something else stopping up the flow of all your electric chi shizz. Luckily for you I'm here to get all feng shui up in your business. Is it this one?" You wiggle the connector again.

"No, farther down. The bottom one."

"Shit, okay." You walk your hands down each ridge of her notochord, going farther down her back until you get almost all the way to her--okay, great, now you're blushing. Such professionalism, Lalonde. There's one last plug connecting to the very base of her notochord. "I really hope this is the last one, otherwise we're about to get very fucking acquainted right quick."

She jerks involuntarily when you finger the plug, which wiggles a little bit in its socket. "Yes," she says through gritted teeth. "Yes, that's the one!"

You nod, since that's what you had expected to find all along. "Yep, that puppy's loose. I might be able to force it back in, but you're gonna get hit with some backed-up power." You run your hand along her side, petting her like you might pet an animal in labor. Or, you know, someone who is probably going to go through an unavoidable amount of pain. "I'm sorry sweetie, but this might hurt. Or... I dunno what's gonna happen, to be honest."

"Thanks, Roxy. You humans always know the most reassuring way to convey that you have no clue what you're doing." She smiles weakly, grabbing the edges of the tank. "I'm ready."

"Excuse you, lady. Chief Lalonde always knows exactly what she's doing. The wildcard is in the side-effects of all this other stuff that I totally understand," you say through a grin and set to work trying to fit the plug back into her base connector. The angle is hell on your shoulder, with the edge of the tank digging into your armpit as you try to reach all the way underneath her and get leverage on the system. You keep pushing it in different directions, which causes Aradia to gasp in pain and grip the tank more tightly, until the cords of her neck are standing out and all the color has left her knuckles.

" _Fuck_ ," you exclaim with frustration, letting go of the connector. She exhales weakly, sinking back to the bottom of the tub. "I can't get any leverage on this legendary piece of shit." You run a hand through your hair, messing up your bangs and getting goo on your scalp. "Damn. Okay, I'm coming in there, is that all good with you?"

She nods, so you kick off your shoes and unzip your jumpsuit, climbing over the tall tank in your bare feet, shorts, and tank top. It's a tight fit, but you straddle her hips and can just barely get your knees on the bottom of the tub on either side of her. If Aradia finds anything weird about the presumed intimacy of the position, she keeps it to herself. The ooze clings to your skin, raising your body temperature and making you feel a bit heady and sluggish. Likewise, her skin is hot and rubbery under your thighs, but like the ooze it isn't entirely unpleasant. It's relaxing, actually, and you could almost slide in there next to her and take a nap. Wonder what she'd have to say about _that_.

You shake your head, forcing yourself back into the moment. Now that you have a plan, you pull her up into a sitting position, or as much of one as she can manage, and reach behind her to feel around for the wire. "I'm gonna jam this sucker in on the count of three, okay? And you're gonna breathe with me while I do it. Helmslady lamaze, got that?"

"That multicultural reference makes complete sense," she gasps, barely able to hold herself up. "Fortunately I had planned on breathing anyway!"

"Okay... okay good." Her sides are quivering so you resume rubbing them, and your slime-coated hand slides smoothly over her grub scars. Your fingers dip up and down between them like piano keys, while you grip the port plug with your other hand. "Inhale," you say, breathing in deeply. Aradia complies, inhaling and then exhaling along with you, opening her eyes just enough to look into yours. Her sclera are a bright, cheerful yellow, and up close you can see the spots of red that thread through her irises like flecks of garnet in stone.

"Again." The both of you inhale, and on the exhale you slide the connection home without warning. 

Aradia sits up straight, her back arching and limbs going stiff as the backed-up power surges through her axial line from the base of her notochord to the top of her thinkpan. Her eyebrows shoot up and she moans, her eyes rolling in their sockets for a moment until the signal passes and she slumps backward. You dive forward to put your hands behind her head before she can knock her skull on the bottom of the tub, falling on top of her but also saving her from a concussion.

That's when you first notice the unsheathed bulge that's now squirming against your bare thigh. "Oh my god," you say helpfully.

"I don't think it worked," she mutters quietly. "It still feels loose."

"Umm." You reach down behind her, feeling blindly for the wire while trying to avoid brushing too forwardly on the alien sex organ that's floating around in this tub with the two of you like someone just awakened the motherfucking kraken. God, the things they never tell you about in your fusion xenobioengineering classes. It might have been useful to know that electric surges cause involuntary troll boners. Or who knows, maybe she just likes you. "Found it. Damn thing only stays if I hold it in. Something's gotta be putting pressure on it from the inside so it just pops right back out when I let go." You pull the wire all the way out and inspect it. "This is about to get hella weird--and I know that sounds like I'm stating the obvious, but I mean, like, weirder than two girls jello-wrestling in the helm, if you can imagine such a scenario. I'm gonna have to manually inspect your port and find out what's up. Like, manually in the sense that I gotta do it with my finger."

"Okay." She grabs the edges of the tub again and braces herself, presumably because she's about to get probed by a stranger. She looks up at you with eyes that are probably lidded more by exhaustion than anything else, but it's a little disarming all the same. "I can't control it, by the way. Since you're just gonna ignore the tuskbeast in the room."

"Control what?" you say right as her bulge shifts against your leg again. "Oh, that. Oh. Yeah. I wasn't gonna, um." You bite the inside of your cheek, hiding your face in her armpit as you pull the plug completely loose from its port. "It's probs from the power surge. Some kinda involuntary autonomic reflex...thing. Probably."

"Yes, probably definitely that thing that you just said." She doesn't seem upset by it, or even very embarrassed at all, which actually makes you a little more at ease. You relax enough to snake your finger into the port, tracing your fingertip along the rim and then dipping inside, feeling for loose rubber washers or chipped pieces of surgical plastic or god only knows what, when your finger pushes up against something soft and yielding at the back of the hole. Aradia's shoulders hike up, and she gasps when you poke it. Her bulge slithers more insistently in the crux of your hip. "More autonomic stuff," she whispers, her voice a little shaky.

You frown, trying to remember the relevant basic anatomy from the troll biology class you took. The pieces start to fall into place, and you test your theory, stroking the soft organic matter firmly with the side of your finger. She moans in response, quietly but reflexively and deep in her throat, and you feel yourself getting angry. "Wow, son of a bitch. Your old tech--he put this last port right into your freaking goddamn abdominal girdle, didn't he?"

"What?" Aradia gasps. This clearly wasn't anything she expected you to ask right now. "I think so, yeah. He told me he had to plug them into critical energy points."

"Oh _hell_ no. Man, what a doucher. You'd think he would have known, right? Okay, so check it: That idiot put the works all right up against your seed flap. If you don't--um--" Man, how to put this delicately? "If you don't, y'know, keep your business _drained_ , it fills up with genetic fluid and puts pressure on the port. When was the last time you got your concupiscence on? Or your self-concupiscence, I ain't here to judge."

"A long time. I can't have visitors, and the work is exhausting. But if you keep digging around in there, it won't be an issue very much longer." You pull your hand away quickly. "The psi takes so much of my energy, I don't think I _can_ do it myself." Her eyes grow dark, and for the first time you see anger cross her face. "I bet that's what he wanted. For me to need him to--"

"Whoa," you say, going back to rubbing her side without really thinking about it. "Hey, that's kind of heavy, sister. And anyway, if that _is_ what he intended, I guess the joke's on him because it's me rolling around in the goo with you and he's in some kind of shallow troll grave right now."

"We don't have graves, we feed our corpses to the young," she says with a distant smile, as if picturing said douchebag getting his cosmic comeuppance. When she comes back into the moment, she looks at you with weary clarity. "What do we do now, Chief Roxy?"

"Well, one way or another you're gonna have to drop a load, so I guess that's up to you. I could leave--"

"No," she interrupts you. "I don't have the energy to do this myself."

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a little uneasy. "This is edging into territory that they really didn't cover in the module I took on bioengineering ethics, babe, but--" But to be honest, she's way too cute for you to just let her suffer like this. You sigh. "I guess we're about to get all hells of acquainted. You could even say we're gonna get intimate. Think of it as a teched-out one night stand, except it'll probs be more like a biweekly appointment, 'cause, yeah. Definitely gonna be a recurring problem." 

She's staring at you blankly but slightly expectantly, which is somehow more unnerving than if she had protested to the suggestion. It makes you realize that part of you really wants to do this, and that makes you feel guilty because this is definitely some serious moral grey area, especially if her insinuations about the old tech's intentions are legit. "But, I mean, only if you want me to. 'Cause I am so all about consensual maintenance, you don't even know. If that doesn't do it for you, I could try to get the bureaucratic dorks to set up some conjugal visits with a quadrantfriend, but--"

She shrugs. "I don't have either of those quadrants filled right now. It's hard to meet new friends when you're at the helm for weeks on end. So yes, let's do it."

"It's hard to meet local singles period, I feel you." You run your fingertip in an oval around one of the scars on the side of her thorax, tracing its edges absently while you decide how to best go about doing this. She closes her eyes, relaxing into your touch, and that makes you more comfortable. Manual stimulation of an alien is hard enough _already_ without an audience, right? Where even are their erogenous zones? Maybe you should go back to poking her seedflap, since she intimated that it was doing it for her.

You crawl tentatively back down on top of her and rest your face on her chest, above her rumblespheres. Goo sticks to your cheek and gets in your hair, and you're going to have a hell of a time explaining this when you make it back to the head later to wash it all off. Sorry, guys, I was jerking off an alien in order to fix her helm connection. Yes, good, perfect. That'll fly well with the enlisted assholes.

The goo is warm and you rise and fall slightly with her breaths, which come at a steady pace. Right, time to change that. Time to get your ethically ambiguous maintenance on. You take a deep breath and slide your hand around her torso, back down to the port hole where you pulled out the wire. "I'm gonna press on your junk from the inside again."

"I'm gonna do my best to like it," she whispers, putting one of her hands at the base of your spine. It sits there heavily, steadying you, and you think Aradia might actually be the most easygoing troll you've ever met. You aren't sure many people would be able to take this kind of situation in such stride, or maybe you're just underestimating the biological imperative for free orgasms. She whimpers when you put pressure on the flesh at the back of the port, squeezing her legs together. "Okay, yes. I like it."

"Good." She flexes her thighs beneath you, which bobbles you up and down a little, rubbing your thighs against her bulge. You try to time the pressure on her genetic fluid sac with the rhythm she's using to squeeze, which is met with a grunt. Her bulge slips between your legs, snaking up one of your shorts legs and wrapping up the backside of your ass, squeezing and flexing against your skin. You have to squeeze your own legs shut, trapping it between them so that it doesn't try to explore any of your orifices, which--well, it isn't like you don't _like_ Aradia, but you also just _met_ her. It's weird enough that you have your finger knuckle-deep in a hole in her back, and weirder still that she's getting off on it.

She responds to the pressure on her bulge by lifting her hips, pushing you up and out of the slime as her bulge throbs between your legs, slithering back and forth up against the crotch of your shorts. You grunt and brace your free hand against the bottom of the tank, keeping you steady while she fucks your thighs and you--god, what are you even doing, anyway? Fucking her back?

It's best if you don't think about it too deeply. It's actually kind of hot on the surface, because when you jam another finger into the hole and press on her fluid sac with both fingers, bobbing them rapidly up against the fleshy wall in time with the throbs of her bulge, she begins to thrash her legs, rubbing them wildly together and putting more pressure on your crotch. The base of her bulge is sliding back and forth against your underwear, against your clit, and her once-steady breath is now puffing harsh and ragged next to your ear. "Come on, girl. Just a little more."

She moans, nodding and putting both of her hands firmly on your ass, pushing you down onto her bulge, putting more friction on your clit. You can't stop the whimper that forces its way past your lips any more than you can control the way your hips want to grind down on the bulge between your thighs, riding up against it until her eyes are squeezed shut and her rumblespheres peak above the surface of the pearly slime. They're large and soft and warm against your face, and you want to shift down just enough to put your mouth on them, but you really feel like that would be weirdly forward. Man, what an arbitrary place to draw the line.

You have just enough time to realize that _holy shit you are really aroused right now_ , and not only that but _you are getting paid to do this, you are getting paid by the Earth military to fuck this troll silly through a port hole in her back and ride her bulge like you're at Coney Island_ just before you realize, finally, that this girl is about to blow. She's going to blow her alien load all over your shorts, but you don't have time to worry about that because you need to grab that wire and shove it into the port right...

Right...

_Now._

The connection sends current back up her axial line like before, and this time Aradia shouts--a high noise that could be pain or pleasure or both--as her back arches involuntarily and her genetic material spills between your legs in rhythmic spurts. Her chest heaves against yours and her thighs tremble under your lap, quivering through the combined stimulus overload of her orgasm and the surge of power until the system calibrates. You hold the plug in place with your hand until the surge passes and releases her, allowing her to slump backward again. You slide down along with her like you did before, and this time her whole body begins to shiver with jittery energy.

When you let go of the plug, it stays in the port. You wiggle it and determine that it is secure before letting go, wrapping your arms around her thorax under her shoulders. "You okay, sweetie?"

She lets out a shuddering exhale before speaking. "I think I'm okay. You know, for a second there I thought I died again! No such luck." She turns her head and smiles sleepily, winking at you. "Thanks for the assistance. You're a pretty capable human, which is new for me."

"You've got a weird way of telling a lady that she's a good lay. Good thing I'm just so damn good at taking back-handed compliments." You sigh, feeling her bulge shrinking away from your legs and slipping back into its sheathe. You feel deeply unfulfilled, but also like you don't really have a right to ask for reciprocation. After all, you're the service tech here. You're just doing your _job_. "I guess that whole thing was kind of new for me too. I've never had to fuck a piece of machinery into compliance before."

"I'm a piece of machinery now?"

"No, I mean--"

She snorts and smears goo on your face, making you crinkle your nose. An awkward moment is rapidly approaching, specifically the one where you ask her if there's anything else she needs serviced before you crawl out of this tank, put your jumpsuit back on over your slime-covered clothes, and then walk back to the humans' quarters without being seen and try to surreptitiously rub one out in the head while wondering what it might be like to have Aradia's bulge inside of you next time.

But that's all kinds of your problem and really not hers to deal with at all, so you don't mention it. You think you're doing a good job of hiding it until she says, "Your vascular pump is beating very rapidly."

You push yourself up onto your knees before your body can give you away any more than it already has. You don't want to harbor any misconceptions about this being anything more than a very weird, unusually _involved_ service call. "It's okay. I think I'm a little sympathy amped, though. The adrenaline rush of a job very well fucking sorted."

"Uh huh," she nods, yawning and floating back in the tank now that your weight isn't anchoring her down. You step out of the tub, careful to hold on to the edge so you don't slip on the stone floor before getting your balance.

"Ugh," you say, looking down at your clothes. There's a deep maroon stain all over your shorts and the bottom of your tank top. "I look like a stab victim."

"It's a better color on you than orange," Aradia murmurs. 

"Wow. Anybody ever tell you that you're, like, the literal worst at pillow talk?" You pull the jumpsuit back on and zip it up your front, hiding most of the mess. The goo on your face gets wiped off on your sleeve, and then you almost pass for someone who hasn't just had an alien come all over her in the line of duty. "So, do you want to make a standing appointment, or is this gonna turn into the weirdest booty call arrangement ever known to mankind?"

"Hmm," she thinks, quirking her mouth to the side. "I don't know what a booty call is, so I don't know! Why don't you come back in a couple of weeks? I'll put in a service request if I need you sooner."

"Roger wilco. That's human military speak for 'sounds perf, you righteous babe'." You pick up your toolbox and make to leave, but she interrupts you.

"Or you could come by sooner? It gets lonely in here, and you're a lot more fun to talk to than the voices of the dead helmsmen. Mostly they just want to complain about not having enough brain honey in the afterlife."

"I am so going to pretend you didn't say that," you smile and bend over the tank, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'm gonna pretend you just miss my magic fingers, and I'm gonna forget all about anybody seeing dead people."

"I don't see them, I hear them." She grins up at you and waves as you walk out the room's portal. "I'd like to see _you_ , though."

"You will. Catch ya later, Helmslady. Not like you're goin' anywhere," you call back through the closing door, thinking maybe you will stop by for a social call after all. Usually you like to get to know people _before_ they jizz on your stomach, but there can't be a lot of harm in doing it the opposite way too. You spend most of your walk back to your quarters trying to ignore the way your feet squelch in your boots or how the residual ooze makes your thighs slippery, sliding against each other with every step you take down the long, empty corridor. 

The truth is, it's probably not just the slime making you so slippery. Some of it is her. Some of it is _you_.

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 user meadows asked for permission to write a continuation of this fic, and you can read it here: [Autonomic Booty Call 2: Electric Boogaloo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3503348).


End file.
